Becoming and Ending
by ihadnowittyusername
Summary: While one brother is venturing into his new life another is running from his. A series of vignettes based on the old ,young, truth, fiction and the in between.
1. thefirstdayofschool

**Thefirstdayofschool.  
**"Can you brush my hair?" Evelyn stopped, looking back at her youngest son. He was a picture of innocence. His hair slightly ruffled, eyes wide and wanting and hands clutching protectively at his backpack. His _first_ backpack. Jack always seemed eager to tell. One of the first things he had told Evelyn was about school. The way he spoke about it was in the same way someone would speak of some kind of lover lost. As if he had been the only person to ever experience it. He had spent a whole car ride talking about how happy he was to go to school. How his teacher's never liked him at his old school because he was _always_ late. How happy he was to go to a _new_ school. How the teachers always treated him weird. How the only backpack he had, had been taken away from him. How his dad had told him that "nothing was free" and that she didn't want him taking from strangers. He could talk about school _forever_ and she would just let him talk.

She would soon learn that Jack refused to talk about many things from his past. If you wanted to know you would have to find his case. That didn't even really tell the _whole _truth though. Just the things the doctor's could tell. The things the social workers could _see_. Reality and what Jack saw as had always been two completely different things.

Evelyn folded her arms, turning away from her oldest son to tend to her youngest. She bent down, cupping his face in her hands. "So handsome," she remarked, messing his hair up more, "you're growing up too fast for my taste," he didn't notice how Evelyn's eyes were watering up. How Bobby turned around slightly so he didn't have to face the kid.

He had stolen all of their hearts.

So adorable. So easily hurt.

"He's only seven," Bobby kept his voice tight. He kept his teeth gritted so it wouldn't betray his true feelings.

Evelyn ignored him. "Of course I'll brush your hair sweety. Sit down," she instructed. She kept her eyes away from Bobby's. She could see him moving. Trying to make her look at him. Trying to make her talk to him.

"How do you want it?"

"Messy," he looked up at her, on the couch, already excited.

"Um...it is messy sweety,"

He looked up at her before jolting up. "You make my lunch?"

"Yep. It's on the table,"

He ran in to grab it.

"Ma..."

"Not now Bobby," she shot him a stern look before following Jack into the kitchen.

"What's this?" he looked quizzically at the lunch box, setting the back pack down to examine it. He ran his fingers over the surface of the new object.

"A lunch box. See that way you can keep up with all of your lunch," she rested her hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her. If his eyes could widen anymore, they did. Something was wrong. Just that fast. Just like that. It was the way Jack operated. His "doctor" had told them that he just had to get his feelings under control. Figure out right and wrong for himself.

"What if someone takes it?" he mumbled, his bottom lip slightly pouted.

"No one's going to take it honey,"

"What if _he_ takes it?"

Jack talked about _him_ a.k.a.: he frequently. He never used his name. Sometimes he would call him dad but that had fallen out of favor with Jack.

"You don't have to worry about him anymore Jack. I already told you this," Bobby leaned against the door frame and Evelyn checked her wrist watch.

"Oh we have to go!" she grabbed Jack's small hand and his back pack.

"Bye Bobby!" he yelled behind him as Evelyn pulled him out the door to make sure they caught the bus at the counter.

"Have fun," he mumbled, watching Evelyn as she watched Jack running to the bus.

She turned around, her bottom lip stuck in between her teeth.

"Can you not tell him that you're moving out today? I want his first day of school here to be special," she turned back, waving to the yellow bus.

"It's already special ma. Did you see the way his eyes lit up when he saw his lunch box?"

"Why are you doing this? He's come to expect you Bobby. He's come to expect things. They have to stay the same way. That's like me taking away his dinner and expecting him to keep on getting better,"

"He needs food to live–"

"Why are you moving out?"

"Ma..."

"Why? When he's gotten so used to–"

"Because I can't let him down,"

Bobby just remembered that they were still outside. That she was still angry at him. That they had just watched a seven year old Jack going off to his new school. New life. New conflicts. No more of "hey I gotta run some errands, you wanna come?" or "Ok you can stay up a little longer,"

"He's not like Angel or even Jer. He needs someone like you. Not me. He doesn't need a man to come in and tell him the rights and wrongs and how to grow up. He needs a soft hand to come in and tell him that it's all going to be alright,"

"Why can't you be that soft hand?"

"Because I'm not. You've seen. How many times have I made him cry by just..yelling? Not even at him. Just yelling. How many times?"

"It's fine. He's just coming around,"

"I can't do this ma. I want kids of my own some day. I want to settle down _some_ day,"

"Jack is your son just as much as he is mine," she was soft again. Gentle. And no matter how many times he had watched her work this same magic on Angel and Jerry and even Jack, he couldn't help but to not believe her.

"I don't know how t o help him," he added, with Evelyn walking back inside of the house.

"Well..that's hard to believe because you already have so much,"

She smiled and he ran the thought around in his mind. He liked the way it sounded. Even if Jack had a different perspective, he liked that one. Maybe he _could_ help Jack more than he had thought.

**AN: **I plan on this being a part of a series of pre-movie vignettes. Hopefully it was enjoyed. Thanks for reading and please review.


	2. Attachment Theory, Disorder & Treatment

**Attachment Theory, Disorder and Treatment.  
**Evelyn doesn't see him. She can hear him. And this is how she knows that he's crying. "Jack?" she whispers, as she fumbles around on the small night stand next to her bed before she grasps onto her manual alarm clock. Just to make sure that she didn't accidentally forget to set her alarm.

Obviously, she didn't.

Next, she tries connecting the arrows to something else, already in her mind. Ah. Yes. Three A.M. "Jack?" she repeats again. Her eyes are beginning to adjust. They adjust to darkness, yet she can see small streaks of pale flesh from where the open blinds-- which she had forgotten to close-- allow in six slants of moonlight which hit Jack's pale, cheek-sunken face gracefully. His eyes are wide and blue and surprisingly dry.

Surprisingly so, because this is contrary to the pasty-white streaks left in the wake of Jack's latest crying fit. His breath is still heavy and she's afraid that it's a panic-attack. He's had many.

He tugs at his clothing uncomfortably as if he's attempting to come right out of his skin. As if he's attempting to turn himself inside out and pull away from himself. From his past. Future. This is exactly what Evelyn doesn't want.

"Jack? Say something. Tell me you're ok,"

She's sitting up now, her arms folded over her lap.

Jack opens his mouth as if to say something else and yet nothing comes out. She pulls the covers down and pats the sheets next to her. Jack obliges and Evelyn finds herself combing through Jack's hair, telling him of things that she can't even determine he wants to hear about.

Things about life and family and how she always wanted kids, even when she had been younger.

And he had fallen asleep, leaning against her, leaving a warmness that would follow her through-out the rest of her life and haunt him (always leaving him searching for something that could replicate that same, warm feeling) for the rest of his life.

Needless to say, he won't find it.

* * *

My shortest oneshot ever... 


End file.
